The Greatest Gift
by JamesLuver
Summary: Anna and John enjoy their last half-day before the arrival of their first child.


**A/N:** Happy Birthday, **angel-princess-anna**! I hope you've had a wonderful day. This incorporates the prompt, _"Can you help me up, your child is pretty heavy."_

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

 _The Greatest Gift_

The warmth of summer melted away into a mild autumn, and then into a cold winter. For that, Anna could only be glad. The summer months had been unseasonably warm, made worse by the changes taking place within her body. Although she delighted more and more with every day that passed that the tiny life inside her bloomed and grew stronger, there were some downsides to pregnancy. She had been determined not to complain about a single aspect of it, with how perilously close they had come to losing yet another baby, but with the cloying, sweaty heat of summer pressing down on her, it had been very difficult to maintain that silent promise. John's large bulk hadn't helped matters. He seemed to attract heat like a magnet. It was a blessing in the winter, when she could snuggle close and luxuriate in his heat like a very contented cat, but in the summer it could be a nightmare. She had lost count of the nights where she had slept as naked as a babe with the covers thrown from her body, desperate for any kind of respite from the open window.

Still, even with her grumblings, she had missed him dreadfully when he had travelled to Brancaster with Lord and Lady Grantham, leaving her behind. The bed had been too big without him, and he had missed out on the first distinctive kick of their baby. It wasn't fair that he'd had to miss more firsts. If this was the only child they ever had, then they both deserved to be there for every moment of the pregnancy. She had already denied him the earliest of days. She didn't want anyone else to deny the rest for him.

He had expressed a little disappointment at not being there to share in the baby's first kicks with her, but he hadn't been bitter about it, as she'd conjured up in her head on the longest, loneliest nights. He had simply cast his things aside, struggled to his knees in front of her, and rested his palm flat against the swell of her belly.

"Do you think they'll kick now?" he asked hopefully.

"Maybe," she said. "Try talking to them. They might like that."

He did as she'd bid him, and after a few minutes she felt the distinctive jab of an appendage against her.

"There!" she said. "There, John! Did you feel it?"

She glanced down at him to find his face alive with joy.

"I did," he said, and his tone was filled with such wonder, such reverence, such awe that it made her heart ache anew for his boyish, uninhibited marvel. He knew what to expect just as little as she did, and it had brought them even closer for they were journeying into the exciting unknown completely in step.

It wasn't always entirely welcome. Sometimes, it became almost exasperating. Now that her time was drawing near, John had started to fuss over every tiny little thing. He was constantly ducking in on her throughout the day to check on her wellbeing, and asking her if she felt all right, or if she needed to take the weight off her feet for five minutes, or if there were any tasks that he could perform for her. She found his constant desire to keep her wrapped in cotton wool endearing in many respects, but she was also well aware of her own limitations, and it wasn't helpful when he popped his head round the door every few minutes to check that she hadn't started with her labour. If he carried on at that rate, she was sure that Mr. Carson would haul them both in front of him and announce that John's behaviour wasn't conducive to the smooth running of the house, which would be an uncomfortable experience for all three of them.

Thankfully, they had a rare free afternoon all to themselves. It seemed to have been forever since their last half-day. Anna supposed that the days seemed to be stretching endlessly with the extra weight that she was carrying everywhere she went, making her twice as exhausted and weary for the her tasks to be over. Even if she didn't like admitting it aloud, it _was_ becoming more and more difficult to haul herself out of bed at the crack of dawn and then spend the whole day up at Downton before she returned home and collapsed beside John. And yet she wouldn't have it any other way. She didn't want to be alone if her labour started, and being around people meant that her mind was constantly occupied, giving her less time to dwell on her anxieties about the health of their baby. She supposed that John's fussing was the compromise she had to make for her continued presence at Downton.

Now, finished at work until dinner called, she pulled on her outer layers and waited for John to materialise. She heard the clack of his cane before she saw him, and found herself smiling unconsciously as the baby wiggled around inside her, as if it too sensed the presence of its father nearby. She smoothed her hand over her bump to soothe it, and pushed herself to her feet as John appeared in the doorway.

"Ready to go?" she asked, waddling round to his side—she seemed to be doing that a lot now, waddling. It always made John smirk.

"I certainly am," he said. "Let's go."

She followed him out into the hall and waited while he pulled on his coat and gloves. The winter was bitterly cold this year, and even thick layers weren't enough to protect people from the chills. Mrs. Patmore had come down with a cold early on, and Mrs. Hughes had followed suit. They'd made her keep well out of the way for fear of passing anything on to her when she was pregnant, but Anna had been lucky. Baby Bates, a burden in the summer, was a blessing in the winter. She was always toasty warm—still often far too warm, with John slumbering beside her.

They had decided between them that they would use this half day, their last before Christmas, to pick up last minute gifts. They had never really bothered before—Anna had picked up small trinkets for Mrs. Hughes in the past, but she had never bought anything for Mr. Carson—but they agreed that now the butler and the housekeeper were married, they ought to get them something jointly so that Mr. Carson didn't feel snubbed. The problem was that neither of them really had any ideas. Anna hoped that wandering round the village would get a few ideas flowing.

As they emerged into the cold December air, Anna reached out and slipped her hand into the crook of her husband's elbow. For once, she was glad of his injury. The cadence of his strides was broken up by his limp, and it meant that she could still easily keep up with him, even at eight months pregnant. Though she suspected that sometimes he complained about his knee hurting purely for her benefit so that they were forced to walk even slower. She didn't mind. At this time of year the hard ground could be treacherous, and it was better that they didn't take any risks.

The village looked pretty as a postcard, glowing in silver frost as it was, and the streets were almost empty as people sought refuge in front of crackling fires. John huffed, his breath misting on the air.

"Where to first?" he asked.

"How about the haberdashery?" Anna suggested. "I need more supplies for my button box, and it'll give me the chance to mull over some ideas for Mr. and Mrs. Carson."

"I still can't get used to the idea of Mrs. Hughes being Mrs. Carson," John commented as they crossed the street together. Anna giggled.

"John, it's been almost a year now," she said. "How can you not be used to it?"

"You know us men don't like change," he replied cheerfully, opening the door for her when they reached the shop. Through some miracle Anna managed to squeeze under his arm.

"I hope you know that _everything_ is going to change now, Mr. Bates," she continued in an undertone, raising an eyebrow significantly.

A smile blossomed on his face as he dropped his gaze to the roundness of her stomach. "Yes, well, that's different."

"Not for most men," she returned tartly. "Most men want to run screaming for the hills when their routines are disrupted by a squalling baby."

"And I can't wait to have it squalling in my arms," he said. "Our very own flesh and blood for everyone to coo over. He or she is going to inherit all of your good looks, and I shall be in awe that a great big lummox like me ever had a hand in making something so special."

"Charmer," she teased. "Just you wait, you'll be singing from a different hymn sheet when the baby is demanding all of my attention."

"Then I shall have to wait patiently to book an hour of your time."

"An hour? You'll be lucky to get a minute."

"Then I shall treasure every second of the minute and then revel in my wife holding my baby in her arms."

Anna shook her head, pursing her lips to hide her smile. When he said things like that, he made her want to grab his lapels and plant a kiss on his mouth. Unfortunately, current surroundings ruined that, so she settled instead for running her fingers over the back of his hand and moving further into the shop in search of the materials she needed. John wandered around aimlessly in the background, trying and failing to look interested in any kind of shopping errand but dutifully on vigil for if she ever needed him. She had suggested going further afield today, perhaps Thirsk or even York, but he had been quick to offer the village instead. She knew that with her due date creeping ever closer, he was uncomfortable about being outside the vicinity of those who could help her. He might have wanted her to see Doctor Ryder whenever there was the slightest twinge, but labour was unpredictable, and she knew that he'd rather Doctor Clarkson, a man who knew her relatively well, be on hand for when the time came. She'd let him have his way, knowing that it would soothe him. They would simply have to make do with the choices in the village.

Once she had selected the things she needed and had paid for them, they emerged back onto the streets. John insisted on carrying the basket for her, even though she was accustomed to carrying things far heavier. She weaved her arm through his again so that she could remain close to his side, and together they wandered further down the street, peering in windows as they passed. It was lovely, seeing the village dressed up in pretty Christmas decorations, the insides looking warm and inviting.

"We should stop for something to eat before we head back to the cottage," said John. "A nice cup of tea and a slice of cake will do us both the world of good."

"Are you trying to fatten me up, Mr. Bates?" she said, craning her neck so she could see him properly.

"Of course not," he said innocently.

"If I get any larger, I won't be able to fit into a single dress I have," she grumbled, though was secretly very taken with the idea of cake. To her detriment, it seemed that Baby Bates had a very sweet tooth too, and demanded that she supply it with all manner of sweet treats, from Victoria sponges to chocolate biscuits. Her appetite amused John to no end, and in the early days he had taken great delight in the way that her body had grown curvy and round. Now, he claimed that there was no sight on earth that he loved more than seeing her bedded in in front of the fire with a blanket over her large bump, and a cup of tea and a plate of some sweet treat at her side.

"It's the perfect family scene," he was fond of saying. "A photograph of true domesticity. Any man would be lucky to have it. I am the luckiest of all."

They carried on a little further down the street. Anna stopped them in front of the general store.

John frowned. "What is it?"

She pointed in the window. "What about that?"

The item that had caught her eye was a handsome clock. From information gleaned from the conversations that she'd had with the housekeeper, Anna knew that Mr. Carson was very house proud, in a way that most men would never be. His time as butler had enhanced his sense of righteousness in how a house should be run, which Anna supposed was both a blessing and a curse. She was sure that it meant that Mr. Carson was meticulously neat and tidy, and doubted that Mrs. Hughes ever had to pick up after him. But, from reading between the lines, it also meant that his sense of how something should be was engrained in him as if it was the very fabric of his soul, and his unwillingness to let things be any different to how he saw them in his mind drained on Mrs. Hughes. She and John had their own spotless home, made so by the housemaid that still lived within her and the strict army regime that had governed John's life for a time, but she was glad that they could leave cups on the side to be dealt with later, or that they didn't always have time to make the bed because they were running late. It was those little natural touches, human as they were, that made their cottage feel like a true home and not another guest bedroom up at Downton Abbey. She was glad that John ate anything placed in front of him with gusto, and proclaimed that it was the best thing he had ever eaten, even though she knew that she wasn't a patch on Mrs. Patmore because she was woefully out of practice when it came to cooking. She had caught Mrs. Hughes whispering in a corner with Mrs. Patmore and surmised that Mr. Carson wasn't so easily pleased.

But an item like this was a neutral one. It would not offend Mrs. Hughes by being something related to the kitchen, which would obviously be a sore point for her, and was pleasing on the eye enough that Mr. Carson wouldn't mind it being in the house. She said as much to John.

Typical man that he was, he only shrugged. "Whatever you say, my darling. You're the expert in these matters."

"Only because you're determined not to show an interest."

"I show an interest in plenty of household things," John protested good-naturedly.

"Showing an appreciating eye whenever I get a new dress doesn't count, John Bates."

"Why not? I'm a trained valet. I am simply admiring the master hand that has created such wonderful garments."

"My eye you are. More like you're eager to practice being your valeting skills on the hooks and buttons…"

"His lordship doesn't have those kinds of hooks and buttons."

"Otherwise I'd have to wonder which looking glass we'd stepped through. And if you're more like Thomas than you constantly deny."

"My darling, trust me when I say that yours is the only corset I have an interest in opening."

"So I should hope. I would be most aggrieved if I discovered that you had a wandering eye simply because I'd grown fat and ugly."

He chuckled. "As if I could ever find you less than breathtakingly beautiful. You might be rounder now, but it's for the most wonderful of reasons, and if you stayed that size forever I would love you exactly the same. I fell in love with you for _you_ , not just because you were beautiful."

Another comment that deserved a kiss. She would have to save them up for when they got home. Instead, she shook her head and said, "How about we got for that tea, Mr. Bates? Baby Bates is hungry."

"Well, we can't have that," he said. "Lead the way, Mrs. Bates."

These days, baby was leading the way. Anna was both surprised and in awe by how quickly her stomach had expanded from those early days, when there had barely been a swell there to suggest that anything about her body was different to normal. She wished that she had been able to capture each stage of the pregnancy as it had progressed. These things happened so gradually that she hadn't even realised they were happening until they were in full bloom.

They were ushered to a table by the window, and John ordered a plate of sandwiches while she eyed up the range of cakes. Today, Baby Bates seemed to be in the mood for apple tart. She ordered two pieces—John would doubtless let her finish off his—and sat back, content to watch life in the sleepy village passing by.

John touched her hand. She glanced down at it, unable to stop her smile as she turned hers over and allowed him to twine their fingers together.

"You looked a thousand miles away," he said softly. "What were you thinking about?"

She shook her head, peering up into his eyes. "I was just thinking that the next time we come here, we'll need another place setting at the table."

"And our daughter will be the centre of attention because everyone will want to marvel at her beauty."

"John," she scolded him. "You don't know that it'll be a girl."

"Well, there's a fifty-fifty chance."

"And I fear that you're going to be disappointed if baby turns out to be a boy."

"I could never be disappointed with any child of ours," he said. "If the baby _is_ a boy, then I will be the proudest father of a son that has ever been known to man, and I will strive to raise him to be a better man than I am."

"Any son would be lucky to have you as his father," said Anna, squeezing his fingers.

He gave her a sardonic smile. "I don't know how much of that I truly believe, but I promise to always try my best. Raising a family with you is the only thing I've wanted for a long time, and I hope that I will live up to what you both need."

"You could never do anything else," she reassured him. "I know you haven't always had a high opinion of yourself, but you have to trust me on this one. Yes, you've made mistakes in your past. So have I. So will our children. To make mistakes is as natural as breathing. It's how we learn from them and atone for them that makes us who we are, and how you guide those around you. I know you'll guide our child in the right direction, whatever the sex, and I know that if we have a son, I will be a very lucky mother indeed if he turns out like you."

She detected the slightest quiver in his voice. "Really, Anna, if you carry on like this you'll make me emotional. Which would be a most embarrassing feat here in front of everyone."

"All right," she conceded. "But you have to know that every word I speak is the truth. I don't just say it to soothe you. I believe it with all my heart and soul."

"Your belief in me has been the one thing to keep me going sometimes," he said.

"And yours me," she replied. If he hadn't maintained unshakeable faith in the aftermath of her assault—she still couldn't bring herself to think that harsh, awful word that couldn't even begin to encompass what it was like—then she wasn't sure what she would have done, or where she would have ended up. Sometimes, it was better not to dwell on those kinds of wonderings. It could never lead anywhere good. Because, happily for her, John _had_ remained steadfast and gentle. There was no need to torture herself with anything else. The past could never be forgotten, but it could be left where it belonged—in the past. They had both had difficult upbringings—John's father had been a hard man to live with, and her own childhood was seeped in yet more tragedy—but that had only made them more determined to do better for their children. Their child would benefit greatly from their misfortunes, and she wouldn't change that for anything. She would suffer a thousand times over if it meant that their child was safe, and she knew that John felt exactly the same.

Smiling, John shook his head. "We make quite the pair, don't we?"

Anna tilted her head to look at him, feeling her heart swelling in her chest.

"That we do, Mr. Bates," she said. "That we do."

She'd never have it any other way.

* * *

When they were finished, John pushed his teacup away. Anna mirrored him.

"Are we ready to head off now?" she said. "We can take a couple of hours just to relax at home before we're due back at Downton."

"That sounds like a lovely idea," he agreed. "But there's one more thing I want to do first."

She raised her eyebrow, curious. "What's that, then?"

He shot her that maddening, secret smile. "Never you mind. Why don't you wait here for me?"

"Why don't I come with you?" she shot back.

"That would rather spoil the surprise. And you love surprises."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You don't play fair."

"All's fair in love and war," he recited. "You'll love it, I promise. But there's no point in you traipsing after me. I'll be back in five minutes. Just wait here for me, please. We've a long walk back to the cottage in front of us. I don't want you exerting yourself any more than you have to."

"If you had it your way, I'd never exert myself at all," she grumbled.

"Mummy and baby are my priority," John said cheerfully. "I promise I won't be long."

He leaned across the table and kissed her cheek, leaving her feeling inexplicably warm as she watched him head out into the cold winter's day.

* * *

The walk back to Downton was pleasant. True to his word, John hadn't been long. And whatever it was that he'd had the urge to go out and buy was nowhere in sight. Anna suspected it was tucked somewhere in the folds of his overcoat. When she had tried to prod him about it, he'd simply offered his arm to her in an over-exaggerated gentlemanly gesture, and she'd known that she wasn't going to get anything else out of him. Instead, she'd resolved to pester him about it later and simply enjoy spending the time in his company. Their walk home was filled with laughter and joy, and Anna loved it. She loved being this free with him, able to relax and enjoy the moment. John pampered her like a queen when they were in the cottage, but sometimes it was nice to simply be out and about, enjoying each other's company with no expectations.

Once home, they shed their outer layers. Whilst John hung them up on the hooks by the door, Anna meandered into the sitting room, pleased all over again by what she saw.

Last Christmas, too heartbroken to care, she hadn't bothered with any Christmas decorations. This year, there had been a silent understanding that they would make this Christmas the best one yet. A small tree stood in the corner of the room, almost buckling under the weight of the decorations upon it. They had tacked sprigs of mistletoe in every doorway, and had holly leaves on their mantelpiece. John had assisted her in some Christmas baking, possible due to a rare early evening yesterday, and she could still smell the warm spices in the air. It had a proper homely feel, and she could imagine returning here after a long day's work with their baby in tow, and breathing in those familiar scents. Sometime very soon in the future, she hoped that they'd be able to transfer it to a new home, when they were finally ready to start running their own business. The dream of the hotel had only been put on hold for the moment until the baby was born and they could work out a new schedule between them. Anna couldn't wait for it. It would be a wrench to leave Lady Mary behind, and she knew that John would feel the same about leaving Lord Grantham, but she was sure that it would give them a much better balance of a home life and a work life because they would have other people to rely on as well.

But for now they were content in their cosy surroundings. Anna settled herself onto the little rickety settee, resting her hands atop her large bump as she heard John's heavy tread coming up behind her.

"Is there room for one more on there?" he asked.

"Silly beggar. Of course there is. There's always room for you."

He made his way towards her and squeezed himself in beside her. It was a tight squeeze at the best of times, but now with her stomach so huge it was even more of a squeeze. She was sure that her elbow must be hurting him, jabbed into his side as it was, but he uttered not one word of complaint as they got themselves more comfortable. Anna was often surprised that the settee didn't collapse under their combined weight again, as it had the first time that they'd ever stepped foot inside this room. John must have done a very good job with the repairs. He wasn't the most adept painter in the world—she had had to go over the patches that he had done, because the paint had been uneven at best—but he certainly knew what he was doing with his hands. She smirked, enjoying the private joke with herself.

John noticed immediately. "What's got you smiling?"

"Nothing," she said quickly.

"That was a mischievous smile. You're not planning anything nefarious, are you?"

"Like you, you mean?"

"I'm not planning anything nefarious," he protested.

"But you're planning something."

"Something nice. For you."

"Ah, so you admit it. When will I be allowed to know?"

"Now, if you'd like."

Anna pushed herself away from him, raising her eyebrow. "That was easier than I thought. I thought I'd have to prise it out of you."

He shrugged, smiling. "I know that you're not very patient when it comes to being held in suspense. Your patience isn't as infallible as I'd first believed."

"I've been patient enough with you over the years," she teased.

"That you have. But you have a real weakness when it comes to surprises. So I'll put you out of your misery. Wait here." He heaved himself up again and disappeared, returning moments later with something in his hands. "Here," he said, settling himself back down.

Anna eyed it curiously. "What is it?"

He pressed it into her hands, suddenly shy. "Why don't you unwrap it and see?"

Fingers trembling, Anna obeyed. The package was hard. She parted the paper to find a box inside. It was a handsome thing, made of oak and shined to a fine polish, with a little key and lock. She frowned up at him.

"I don't understand," she said.

John cleared his throat and looked away, as if he was too embarrassed to meet her gaze.

"I was thinking that perhaps we might use it as a memento box," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know…Our child's firsts, perhaps. First lock of hair, first tiny article of clothing when he or she grows out of it…You know, that kind of thing."

Anna stared at him, her heart thumping. He was still avoiding her gaze by looking in the direction of the fireplace. In their confined space, she squeezed his arm.

"John, look at me," she said.

With apparent reluctance, he did just that. She made sure she had his full attention before speaking.

"That is the most beautiful thing I think I've ever heard," she told him, her voice cracking slightly over the words. She wasn't lying; the idea of him painstakingly thinking about saving their baby's first treasured, tiny items, wanting to lock them away forever just the same as her…well, it brought tears to her eyes. She leaned in close to press a kiss to his cheek.

Now that she had voiced her joy at his actions, John looked a lot more relaxed. The smile that crept across his face was a pleased one, and he took her hand in his, twining their fingers together.

"So it's all right?" he asked earnestly.

"It's more than all right. It's one of the best ideas you've ever had. In fact, I'd go so far as to say it's the second best you've ever had."

"Second best?"

She shot him a cheeky smile. "Well, if you hadn't realised that living in fear for the rest of your life was never going to get either of us anywhere, we'd have nothing like we have today. So I have to say that _that_ is the best decision you've ever made."

John rolled his eyes at that, huffing, and, smiling, Anna took the opportunity to hug the wooden box closer to her. This was yet further proof that John would be the most wonderful of fathers. He was always so thoughtful and caring with everything he did. Someone as sentimental as him could only thrive in fatherhood. They could preserve some wonderful memories with this and, when they were old, look back with both mourning and pride that their child had grown up to be a fine young man or woman. In Anna's mind, a child of theirs could be nothing else.

They said nothing else on the subject after that, though Anna cradled the box close to her for the rest of the afternoon. They whiled away the time together in peaceful silence. Anna propped a book open on her huge belly and, proving once again what a thoughtful, wonderful husband he was, John dragged the footstool over to the foot of the settee and dutifully settled himself down on it to massage her poor feet, aching from yet another full day of supporting her huge girth. He looked rather humorous there, hunkered over on the tiny stool when he was so large himself, but he uttered not one word of complaint as he set about his task with the earnestness of a religious youth.

When it was at last time to start getting ready to return to Downton, Anna set her book aside with some reluctance. It was at this point of the day when she wished she _had_ made different decisions about what to do in the latter stages of her pregnancy. Right now, there was nothing more inviting than staying right here, with her feet up, and enjoying a few hours of peace and quiet without having to heave herself up a hundred stairs to get to Lady Mary's bedroom.

But she had made her choice and she was determined to carry it out. So, when John had stretched himself out to his full height, she laid one hand against her huge bump and shuffled her way to the end of the settee, setting her weight on her feet, ready to heave herself back up.

It was harder than she'd anticipated. All she managed was an ineffectual wobble before she collapsed backwards with a huff. A second try only yielded the same results, and she growled. John quirked an amused eyebrow at her.

"What on earth are you doing?" he asked, smirking at her. Most of the time it was irritatingly kissable, but right now she would quite like to smack it from his face.

"Trying to get up," she said.

"Not very successfully."

She glared at him, not quite feeling the exasperation she should. "Yes, that's right. Not entirely my fault, I would add."

His grin only widened, and she rolled her eyes. Men.

"You could make yourself useful instead of standing there grinning like a fool," she told him.

"How?" he asked.

"You're really asking me that?" she huffed. "Can you help me up, perhaps? Your child is rather heavy."

John's eyes twinkled. "How come the baby is always mine when you're irritated about something?"

"It's the law of the world. Men are responsible for everything."

"Not for everything. As you so eloquently implied, _this_ little miracle took more than one person to conceive."

When he said something like that, as gallingly right as it was, how could she stay mad at him? It was all the more infuriating. Still smirking, he bent down to loop one arm around her waist and she anchored hers around his neck. Together, they managed to heave her back upright. She clung to his shirt for a moment whilst she regained her balance. John dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

"There," he said. "That's better."

"Silly beggar," she grumbled, but couldn't resist craning her head back to invite a kiss on her mouth too. He hugged her tight and, for a few minutes more, Anna closed her eyes and sank against him, forgetting that they had anywhere else to be. For a few more minutes, she could forget about work and Lady Mary's frocks and Mr. Carson's fearsome frown. There was nothing on earth more important than this: loving each other, treasuring each other.

The baby kicked out, and she knew that John must have felt it in the way that he jumped back, wide-eyed. And then he started laughing, running his big hand down to cup her huge stomach.

"I love you," he said, and she echoed his words.

Yes, they loved each other. Both each other, and other tiny entity in the room with them, whose presence meant that they were mere weeks away from finally becoming a family of three.

It would be the greatest gift of all.

Fin


End file.
